Highway to Hell
by LoVe JH writer15
Summary: Clarke, Dean, and Sam Winchester were born demon hunters and after the death of their father, they take on the family legacy and the duty to rid the world of evil. A seemingly simple case in Virginia turns into something much darker and the Winchesters face some of their biggest fears. Along the way there are new friendships and of course a budding romance (Bellarke)
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, my loyal readers this is a new story. The idea was plaguing me and I had to get it out there. These are two of my favorite shows ever and I had to merge the universes and see what would happen. I promise to try and update all 3 of my stories regularly! Hope you like this plot the same way I do!**

.One.

**New Orleans, Louisiana**

Grace Demillo was late for work _again_. It was the third time that week and her boss was going to roast her alive. Waitressing at the dingy Paradise Cove was no picnic and Grace was exposed to rowdy drunks, cheap prostitutes, and pedophiles on a daily basis. It was a hard life for a girl fresh out of high school, but she'd left home to prove a point and she'd be damned if her parents ever discovered the overcrowded apartment building she rented or the provocative-ranging on vulgar-outfits she had to wear on her shifts.

In an effort to be late but not so late she'd be fired on the spot, Grace ducked through a maze of alleyways that made up the less glamorous part of cultural New Orleans. She was a half mile from the bar when she heard the footsteps. She turned to meet empty air and decided some stray cat had been lurking about. When the footsteps returned, however, Grace knew it was no cat following her. Fear paralyzed her body as the steps quickened accompanied by heavy breathing and hungry hisses.

Grace began running, knowing the next turn meant the fluorescent lights of the bar and relative safety among the numerous perverts and loners inside.

She hadn't taken another step when something jumped her from behind, the weight of the figure sending them to the floor. Her face broke her fall and she cried out as blood gushed from her nose and a cut on her forehead.

"Delicious." A hoarse whisper sounded from the nape of her neck and Grace was flipped onto her back where she got the first sight of her attacker.

"No, it can't be!" Grace screamed at the creature leering over her, fangs extended and eyes gleaming a crimson red.

"What's the matter, sweetling, never seen a vampire before?" the inhuman man chuckled as he lowered his sharp teeth into her neck.

She struggled feebly and realized this would be her grand ending: serving as a breathing blood bag for a _vampire_.

"Hey! Keep your fangs to yourself, creep!"

The voice was followed by a whiz of something through the air and suddenly an arrow was sticking out of the vampire's chest. Grace crawled away as the creature screeched in pain and fell back.

"Au revoir, bloodsucker." The same voice chirped and a girl with blonde hair and strikingly blue eyes appeared, machete in hand, to cut the vampire's head off.

Grace felt a scream rip through her but the next moment she had fainted, choosing unconsciousness as the coping method for what she'd seen.

* * *

"Nice." Dean praised his sister, who grinned, twirling her now clean machete in the air.

"Thanks, bro. Where were you guys, by the way? I considered waiting for you but the vamp was at her throat and then I thought to myself 'oh wait, you're twice the badass Dean and Sam are, you got this'."

"Cute." Sam walked forward to inspect the terrorized girl on the floor.

"I've told you how I feel about splitting up, Clarke. You should be with one of us at all times." Dean crossed his arms and she rolled her eyes.

"You know I can handle myself. I've saved your ass more times than I can count."

"And we've saved yours five times that."

Clarke looked at her boots to hide her chagrin. It was true, of course.

Clarke was an experienced demon hunter because her brothers had shaped her that way. She had been a newborn when her mother died in a brutal murder by a demon with a grudge against her father.

John Winchester had raised his children the best way he could, but his wife's passing scarred him forever and he grew reckless in his hunts until one night, the night of Clarke's high school prom, he went on a hunt and never returned. A fellow hunter called to inform them of their father's passing.

Clarke had been on the cusp of turning 18 when she learned she was an orphan. She had lost both her parents to the supernatural forces she'd been taught to conquer. She had tried to live a normal life-per Sam's insistence- but after her father died she knew it was impossible. After graduation she sat her brothers down and promptly declared she would be a full-time demon hunter like Dean and her father were.

Sam had protested. Loudly.

"_You can't throw your life, your future, and your happiness away, Clarke!"_

"_Hunting is in my blood, Sam. It's meant to be my life."_

"_No, it isn't. I moved us to California to get away from it. We were good here."_

_Clarke gripped his hand in hers, fixing him with a poignant stare, willing him to understand._

"_You wanted to shelter me, Sam, and I get it but what am I supposed to do? Take the full ride to Stanford and follow in your footsteps while Dean goes off hunting alone? We can't abandon our family, especially when we're all that's left. Dad's gone. Mom never had a chance to raise us. These three people in this room," she gestured between them "are what remains. We are the Winchesters. Our family legacy is in our hands. I refuse to let it go to waste."_

_Sam was shaking his head sadly but he didn't refute her words. Dean was regarding her with that pensive scrutiny he usually saved solely for Sam's speeches and she knew what he'd say before he spoke._

"_Clarke's right. We need to continue the family business. Dad hunted to save lives and rid the world of evil. Now, it's up to us. Are you in, Sammy?"_

_Sam's brow was furrowed anxiously and Clarke's heart went out to him. He was the serious one, the mature brother even though Dean was the eldest. Sam hadn't gotten along with their father and his death had shaken all his beliefs, bringing regrets and insecurities to the surface. Still, Sam always did the right thing and he loved his brother and sister more than anything in the world._

"_Fine. I guess we're doing this."_

A year later, the three Winchesters had slayed vampires, vanquished spirits, taken out werewolves, and gone face to face with some of Satan's most trusted demon warriors. They were a powerful force as a team and the demon world knew it. They were feared in every black circle and whispered about by the monsters that skulked through the shadows. There was no doubt the Winchesters were on every demon hate list but at least their enemies kept a healthy dose of precaution with messing with them.

"What do we do with Sleeping Beauty here?" Dean asked and Clarke was brought back to the present.

"Burn the vamp remains and leave her there. She'll come to in less than fifteen minutes and think it was a dizzy spell or mild hallucination from fatigue or stress. The human mind will convince itself of anything in an attempt to appear sane." Clarke stated matter-of-factly.

"Those Psychology courses you're taking online seem to be worth their weight in dough." Dean said.

"That was my idea!" Sam beamed.

"Can we burn the dead thing and get out of here? I skipped lunch and my stomach is literally crying out for food." Clarke complained.

"That burger joint near the highway looked decent."

Clarke made a face at Sam's suggestion.

"When will we able to eat at a place that's more than _decent_?" she asked.

"Diners and mini marts too good for you, Princess?" Dean smirked and she glared at him.

"You know I loathe that nickname."

"Sure, but when some dude with rock star hair and dreamy eyes uses it on you, I'm sure you'll have no complaints."

"First off, even then I'll hate being stereotyped as some weak little princess. Second, when will any guy ever get a chance to use a pet name when you two scare off any member of the opposite sex who dares to breathe too close to me?"

"We're your brothers, Clarke. We only want what's best for you." Sam spoke gently and diplomatically but Dean was quick to add a less elegant answer.

"And if any street trash thinks he can touch a hair on my baby sister's head, he'll get exactly what's coming to him."

Clarke laughed.

"Just burn the thing, will you? I'm starved."

* * *

After an admittedly sucky dinner at the Grease-O-Rama Burger Stop, the Winchesters were back on the road heading north this time.

"Where to now?" Clarke asked, poking her head in between her brothers in the front seat.

"Mt. Weather, Virgina." Sam read from the newspaper in his lap.

"Isn't that a FEMA bunker for the government?"

"There is one in that area, but we're going to the centralized town area."

"There's a town there?"

"Population: 2,000."

"That's more than that ghost village in Kansas. Population: us three and a chupacabra."

Dean chuckled.

"That was a fun one."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother.

"This one won't be as entertaining, Dean, so listen up." Sam ordered and began summarizing their case. "There have been five deaths this week, one for each day of the week. Now, I've researched town records and it seems that every decade there are two weeks in this month of May where fourteen people are slaughtered."

"Fourteen?" Clarke whistled. "And no one's put the pieces together? Fourteen is like a quarter of the town." She exaggerated.

"10 years make things fuzzy for anyone who doesn't know what we know. Anyway, the killings are random, no specific victim, just citizens of Mt. Weather."

"A kill every day for two weeks?" Dean clarified and Sam nodded.

"Alright, so what are our working theories? Werewolf? They slaughter in masses." Clarke suggested.

"No, the moon contradicts the time stamp and the bodies haven't been mangled, they've been… mutilated."

"Sacrificially?"

"Possibly."

"It might be a particularly vindictive spirit. The town might be built on Indian lands or a cemetery." Dean put in.

"I didn't find any record of a cemetery or any tribes in the area, but records leave out certain things for a reason. There might be a blood history waiting to be uncovered." Sam agreed.

"What are our covers? Reporters? FBI agents? Tax collectors?"

"It's a longer stay than usual, Clarke, so I was thinking more potential buyers. There's an inn we can stay in near the center of the town and we'd have the opportunity to sniff around freely if we say we're interested in the area's history and residents."

"Smart." She complimented her brother and Sam gave her a thankful smile.

"The fake identification and papers for our purchases have our actual first names but the working surname will be Griffin."

"Dean Griffin? Sounds like a potential rapist." Dean muttered and Clarke giggled while Sam looked annoyed.

"You have a problem with the ID's, you go through the trouble of organizing them next time. Until then, shut up."

"Whatever. What are we doing first?" Dean asked Sam.

"The key players in the town are Mayor Jaha and Police Chief Kane. We can split up and meet at the Ark Inn afterwards. We'll arrive in Virginia by daytime and after checking into the room we need to get to it. A life hangs in the balance. The killings usually occur in the evening, so we have some hours to work this out."

"I'll go with Clarke and meet the police chief. You schmooze the mayor. I don't handle authority figures too well and this Jaha guy sounds like a dictator."

"You've never met the guy!"

"Yeah, but his name irks me. I can't explain it just do what I said!" Dean protested and Sam sighed in exasperation.

"You know you need to start acting your age. You're 26 not 6."

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me." He stuck his tongue out and Clarke giggled at his immaturity.

She hoped this Mt. Weather place had a good story. Their cases could get monotonous and though she knew the job was meant to save people, it was also their life and Clarke was barely an adult. She was young enough to do it for the adventure and sometimes her favorite part of the cases was seeing a new part of the country or meeting someone new. She'd had a few guys she could deem boyfriends but they weren't special enough to remember or keep in contact with. Maybe Mt. Weather, Virginia was hiding the man of her dreams.

She'd learned early on in life with the supernatural things she experienced that anything could happen, so why not love?


	2. Chapter 2

**A small detail that pertains to the story is that Clarke, Dean, and Sam's parents are John and Mary Winchester. Abby and Jake (Clarke's actual parents in the canon universe) will be mentioned in the story but they have no relation to her here.**

.Two.

**Mt. Weather, Virginia**

A heavy manila folder was slammed on Bellamy Blake's desk, yellowed papers and antique photographs spilling out to cover his computer keyboard. Bellamy groaned.

"Jasper, what did I say about digging up old case files?"

Jasper Jordan shrugged his thin shoulders and gave his friend a nervous smile.

"To bring them to you in a collaborative attempt at solving our town's greatest mysteries?"

"To not waste my time with them. Jas, you're my best friend and we made our way through the crappy excuse for a police academy in this town together, but my responsibilities have changed. I've changed. I'm Deputy Blake now, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Jasper rolled his eyes. "You go on about it every day. Octavia says you're a dick, by the way."

"Nothing she hasn't said before."

It was true that Bellamy was acting differently, but he took his job very seriously. He had promised his mother on her deathbed he would take care of his sister, Octavia, no matter what. He was all she had, after all, since their father abandoned them and their mother succumbed to cancer. Before the police academy, Bellamy had been reckless and hotheaded. He got into more fights than he could count and indulged in sex and booze at all hours of the day. When his mother fell sick, he knew his behavior had to change.

He applied at the local academy, scraping an acceptance with his C average and athletic skills. He had never worried about grades, not because he wasn't intelligent, but because he clearly was and so he didn't need to bother. That meant skipping classes and cutting whole school days, only to return for lacrosse practice or track meets. In the end, the academy was lucky to have him and he graduated top of his class. He and his friend Jasper were partnered by Police Chief Kane but it became rapidly evident that Bellamy was meant for more. He was made deputy less than a year after arriving at the Mt. Weather Police Department.

Bellamy was only 20, but the chief had promised him greatness in his future. Marcus Kane had connections in high places, having served as Sheriff and Police Chief in various towns around the country. He told Bellamy he'd chosen Mt. Weather to settle down because he'd fallen in love with the mountain ranges and warmth of town, as well as his wife Abigail.

Bellamy knew he'd become a bit of a tight-ass, but staying on the chief's good side meant promotions and pay raises and he would do anything that would benefit Octavia. She was in her senior year of high school and dreamer that she was had her heart set on studying abroad in Paris to become a fashion designer. France wouldn't come cheap, but Bellamy wouldn't deny his sister the world and if that meant looking like a "dick" to all his friends and Octavia herself, then so be it. He was used to being the bad guy.

"Dude, I know you're the big shot deputy in town, but you can't let career ambitions get in the way of what this job really means: saving lives."

"I know that, Jasper."

"Then you have to look at this." The thin boy opened the folder on the desk.

"Wait a minute, this case file is restricted. How did you get this?"

Bellamy fixed his friend with a glare and Jasper grinned with self-satisfaction.

"I have my ways."

"This case is still open. Kane has the updated report in his personal files."

"This doesn't include the 2014 murders but it does include all the others. 14 every decade. There's a pattern."

"We don't have the clearance to investigate this. You less than me."

"Will you climb off the high horse for a second? Jesus." He sighed in exasperation and continued speaking. "Kane has to be looking at them himself but he won't find anything and he won't prevent the other 9 murders because he doesn't know what to look for."

"How do you know there will be 9 other murders?"

"Because every ten years, that's what happens. 14 deaths in two weeks. Every day a new body is found torn apart or killed in some form of gory manner. This has been going on for decades, since like the forties, I think. Bellamy, we need to solve this ourselves."

"If this case if so serious, why has it been locked away in dusty files only the chief wants to see? Don't you think Kane would get our whole unit on it if was so serious? Look, Jas, you have conspiracy theories floating through your brain all day, I get it, but I have work to do and you do too. Kane has you on the local robbery at the liquor store and I suggest you focus on that."

Jasper looked at him with mingled pity and disappointment.

"Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"No, Bellamy, you're the joke here. You used to be a fighter of the people. You beat up bullies and stuck up for the needy in school. You hated oppressive authority and you were the most popular guy in school even though you barely showed up. You had a presence… Now? I don't see anything but Kane in you and that's fucking depressing."

"Jas, I-

"Forget about it. I have work to do and if I don't get on it, you might tell on me."

Bellamy opened his mouth to protest and maybe apologize but Jasper had already walked away and he was left with the controversial case file. The bell at the front desk of the police department chimed and Bellamy knew the receptionist, Roma, was on break so he was in charge of manning the front. He slipped the case folder into the bottommost drawer of his desk. The bell sounded again and then three more times consecutively.

"I'm coming." Bellamy almost growled.

He half-jogged around the corner that separated the entrance of the building from the bullpen and he almost froze at the figure leaning casually against the front desk.

She couldn't be more than 5'5 but every inch of her was gorgeous, from the lazy blonde curls framing flawless fair skin and dazzling cerulean eyes to the curves of her petite body accentuated by a white shirt and fitted leather jacket along with dark jeans and subtly heeled boots. When his own boots announced his presence, her head lifted and glacial blue met heated brown in an intense stare.

Bellamy was not the romantic type (the line of girls in and out of his bed through high school could tell you that) but in that moment his heart skipped a beat. The woman before him was beautiful, of course, but more than that he sensed a ferocity and strength in her that no other woman, except maybe his sister, displayed. She didn't drop her gaze from him and her eyes raked over him shamelessly, lingering on his broad shoulders and the muscled abdomen his uniform barely concealed. When she was done, she met his eyes again and grinned. That grin would haunt him forever.

"Hey, Lieutenant Dangle, you gonna help us here or what?"

Bellamy's eyes narrowed at the insult of the man standing with his arms crossed next to the pretty blonde. He had dirty blonde hair and green eyes directed in a rude glare at Bellamy. From the protective stance and hostility towards Bellamy it was clear he had a claim on the blonde girl.

_Great, a would-be model of a girl walks into Mt. Weather and she has a boyfriend. What an ass. Leather jacket, strange necklace, silver ring, clearly thinks he's the top dog wherever he goes._

Bellamy schooled his features into professional courtesy and addressed the man.

"It's Deputy Chief Blake, actually. And you are?"

"Dean Griffin."

"What can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to Chief Kane."

"The chief is tied up in his office. I'm his second-in-command."

"Gold star for you, kid." Dean smirked and Bellamy refrained from punching him in the face.

"I meant I can be of assistance."

"Thanks but no thanks, Jr. I'd really rather speak to the adult in charge."

Bellamy's face betrayed his anger and he was about to launch a particularly nasty retort at the guy when the girl chose that moment to introduce herself.

"Deputy Blake, I'm Clarke Griffin. My brothers and I just pulled into town today. We're all a little edgy after days of non-stop driving. Exhaustion does things to a person, you know? My brother doesn't mean to be an asshat, but we're barely settled in and we haven't had lunch and he was looking forward to seeing the chief. He knew our dad and we were looking forward to talking to him. He's busy and we understand that, but if there's a second he can spare, Dean would appreciate it. Please."

Bellamy was enthralled with this Clarke Griffin and even her voice was beautiful with its husky undertone and sweet lilt.

"Asshat? Screw you." Dean grumbled but she elbowed him in the ribs and he was forced to bite back a curse.

"I call 'em like I see 'em, Dean and you were in fact being an asshat. You should apologize to this nice officer."

Dean fixed his sister with an incredulous stare, but she ignored him and kept her smile aimed at Bellamy, who had followed the exchange between the siblings with amusement. It reminded him of arguing with Octavia and he realized he should have seen the connection before. Dean was obviously overprotective of his little sister and any male who strayed too close was instantly on his bad side. Bellamy could sympathize. His sister was only 18 but she had admirers stretching around the block, including his best friend and other guys in the department. She also tended to make the worst choices in guys and he'd broken more than one jaw to make a point.

"Fine. I'm _sorry_, Deputy. Clarke's right. It's been a while since I slept and I haven't even had a shot of coffee yet."

"There's a fresh brew outside the chief's office. You're welcome to a cup. Chief Kane has a conference call in about a half hour but you're welcome to try him now." Bellamy offered and Dean gave a reluctant nod of appreciation before moving behind the counter where Bellamy was.

Clarke fell into step beside Bellamy and the latter gulped when one of her soft hands grazed his as they walked. Dean knocked once at the chief's door and when he heard the response, he turned to his sister.

"Coming?"

"Nah, you knew him better. I was a toddler then. I'll wait here."

Dean's emerald eyed flicked threateningly towards Bellamy but at Clarke's raised eyebrow he sighed.

"I won't be long. Ask Sam where he is. We can meet up for lunch."

"Okay."

With a final glower Dean was gone and Clarke and Bellamy were left alone. She turned to him and tilted her head.

"So, what's your story?"

"What?" Bellamy wasn't used to a girl being so forward but Clarke's eyes were wide with interest and innocence, making him think she was genuinely curious.

"You don't seem like the small town deputy type. No offense." She sat down at the nearest desk, which happened to be Bellamy's and crossed her legs expectantly.

He chuckled.

"What?" she asked.

"That's my seat."

"Well, we can share if you want." She grinned and his face must have displayed his surprise because she laughed. "Not used to the woman taking control?"

"Honestly, no."

"Hmm… Get used to it, Deputy."

"Bellamy."

"Bellamy." She repeated and something about the way his name fell from her lips stirred something strange inside him.

Women had always been interested in him. He wasn't shy of admitting that he was attractive. He worked out enough to know his body was as fit as possible for the duties of the job. Yet, no women had acted like Clarke did. She was interested him, sure, but her teasing flirtation was airy and easy not forcibly done. Bellamy hated those desperate girls who threw themselves at him at the drop of a hat. He wasn't one to turn sex down, but the needy girls were the first ones he forgot about. Unfortunately, that was the only type of girl around Mt. Weather and his inexperienced with a girl like Clarke was obvious.

"Why don't I go first?" her voice broke him out of his thoughts and he decided to pull up a chair from Monroe's empty desk to sit beside Clarke. "I was born in Kansas and most of my memories are of the road. My dad's job made it difficult for us to stay in one place so my brothers and I were constantly moving. I've seen more motels and gas stations than most people put together. It used to be hard on me, being the youngest and the only one without a Y chromosome, but I adapted and now that I'm old enough I don't resent it. It made me who I am and I'm kind of amazing."

He laughed at her overconfidence and she grinned.

"What about you, Deputy? Was it your dream to uphold the laws of Mt. Weather?" she teased and he shook his head.

"I used to be the town's black sheep."

"Really?"

"Yep. Rebellious and rotten to the core. The chief picked me up a few times. I promised to reform and I guess I did."

"You guess? Bellamy, you're a cop."

"Yeah, but that isn't who I am. Who we are and who we need to be to get along are two different things."

Clarke processed his words with a deep furrow of her brow and Bellamy wondered what she was thinking about.

"You're right." She finally said. "But, if you aren't a cop, then who are you Bellamy Blake?"

"I don't know." He confessed.

It was an honest answer but one he'd never admitted aloud before not to Jasper or even Octavia. They didn't understand that the person he'd become was an act, a step in the process of his life. After he got out of Mt. Weather and made it to the big leagues, like NYPD or somewhere down the line, the FBI, he could accept every aspect of his personality, including the part of him that once stole Don Cuervo and Jack Daniels bottles or the part of him that set fire to Principal Shumway's car because the guy was a dictatorial bastard.

"I don't either." Clarke said and he blinked, meeting her gaze again. "I have goals like most people but where my life is right now… I don't think they're possible."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind, it doesn't matter."

"Are you going to school?" he inquired.

"I take online Psych courses. I'm close to getting my Associate's degree but practicing psychology isn't my aspiration."

"Then what is?"

She hesitated and Bellamy marveled at the mystery inherent in Clarke Griffin. She seemed to be hiding something big, but they barely knew each other and he wouldn't risk offending her by asking. Who was this beautiful girl?

"I've always liked medicine."

"Doctor?"

"I wouldn't mind being called doctor." She smiled.

"Then go for it."

"It's not that easy. I have an obligation to… the family business."

"Your parents wouldn't allow you to pursue your own interests?"

"My parents are dead. I only have my brothers." She looked down at her small fingers and began twisting them together.

"I'm sorry." He told her. "I know what it feels like to lose a parent."

"It's the worst feeling in the world, losing a loved one. And when it happens, you feel so scared, like who's next? It doesn't scare me to think of my own death, but the thought of Dean or Sam dying? It shakes my soul."

Bellamy nodded vigorously. Not many people in Mt. Weather had siblings and from his experiences in town, those who did didn't particularly get along. He felt like he was the only one who knew what it felt like to have a sibling, a person with your blood and your DNA who is eternally connected to you. Octavia was his life and she was part of him. It was nice to see that Clarke had that bond with her brothers.

"My little sister, Octavia, is all I have left. It terrifies me thinking of her hurt or gone. I don't know what I'd do."

Clarke cleared her throat and gave a dry chuckle.

"Wow, we meet ten minutes ago and I'm already depressing you. Sorry about that."

"I don't mind, Clarke. There aren't a lot of people in this town I can speak frankly with."

"No friends?"

"I have many people I care about but they wouldn't understand or refuse to understand is more like it. Octavia tries, but we haven't been on the best terms lately. I got promoted to deputy not too long ago and apparently I've become this pretentious dick."

Clarke titled her head and studied him quietly. He shifted in his seat but maintained eye contact steadily.

"I don't know you that well, Bellamy, but there's depth to you. You're a good guy. I can tell. Don't worry about what everyone else thinks. If you know you're doing what needs to be done and the best you can be, then things will fall into place."

"Thank you, Clarke."

"You're welcome."

He didn't know what to say next because this girl in front of him was a force of nature he'd never experienced before and normally a hot girl would be launching herself at his clothes and lips, but Clarke was doing none of that, just watching him. For some reason, her gaze turned him on more than any other lewd gesture of previous women. Should he ask her for her number? She was new in town, though, and if they tried something and it fizzled, how awkward would that be? Plus, Dean and her other brother would probably kill him.

The sudden ring of her cell phone broke the silence and Clarke moved to pull the device from her jacket.

"Hello?" she asked, flipping it open. "Hey, Sam. Yeah, Dean's with Chief Kane. Oh, that's good. Yeah, we can talk over lunch. We'll find a place and pick you up. Alright, see you soon. Love you too. Bye." She hung up.

"If you're looking for good food, you should visit Jake's Bistro. It's small, on the edges of town but the food is incredible, especially the linguini with shrimp. Seriously, you need to try it." He urged.

"As you command, Deputy Blake." She joked and he rolled his eyes.

"If you won't call me by my first name, I'll have to return the favor."

"Oh?" she challenged and he grinned.

"That's right… Princess, I give as good as I get."

Her eyes widened and she almost stuttered over her words.

"I-I don't like it."

"Too bad, Princess, I think I'll keep it."

She bit her lip.

"Fine."

"You give up too easy, Princess. Good to know." He winked and she laughed.

The chief's office door opened and Dean entered the bullpen.

"He had to take the conference call, but we were catching up. He and Dad knew each other a few years in Chicago."

Clarke knew that was bullshit but the Winchesters had a talent for twisting bullshit into reality and she knew Dean had somehow convinced Clarke they all knew each other and he was buddies with their father, John.

"Great. Sam's all set. He wanted to meet up for lunch and Bellamy suggested we try a place called Jake's Bistro." Clarke stood, sliding past Bellamy's chair to stand by her brother.

"Anything else happen here?" Dean asked.

"Tactful, Dean, tactful." She mumbled.

"We were just talking." Bellamy put Monroe's chair back, knowing she'd be back from her break soon enough and was testy enough to yell at him for it.

"I'll see you around, Deputy." Clarke said as she and Dean began exiting the bullpen.

"Anytime, Princess."

Dean almost choked on his next breath and Clarke hurried to push him along until they were out of eyesight.

_What a strange family, _Bellamy thought.

For the rest of the day his mind never wandered far from images and thoughts of Clarke Griffin.

* * *

As they drove to pick up Sam, Dean was laughing uproariously. He hadn't stopped since leaving the police office and Clarke longed to stab him with her trusty silver knife.

"H-he c-called you Princess!" Dean choked out between laughing fits. "And y-you said you wouldn't l-like that! Sure didn't seem like you were against it!"

"Shut up, Dean." She grumbled but knew she couldn't deny it.

"I am so telling Sam about this." He said, finally calming down.

"Why?"

"One, it's freaking funny. Two, we need to watch this Bellamy kid. I don't want him thinking he has a chance with you."

"Back off, Dean. My romantic life is not your concern. I didn't say anything when you used our hotel room to sleep with those twin Asians or when you left Sam and I in Tulsa, Oklahoma to hook up with your ex-girlfriend in Dallas, Texas. I haven't had a lot of boyfriends or guys the way you've had whores but when I like someone I expect you to let me make my own decisions."

Her tone was serious and Dean looked over at her.

"What?" she snapped.

"Nothing." He said, though he knew whatever was happening between the deputy and his sister was not nothing.

_Damn it. It has to be a cop in a small town with some type of murderous monster that Clarke finds the guy she wants. This job is a hell of a ride._

* * *

Roma checked the dusty clock on the right wall and sighed. She should have known the chief wouldn't be lenient. She had taken a two hour long lunch break and when she returned Kane was waiting at her desk with a polite hello and an order to stay until the overnight receptionist arrived with the night shift police officers. That wasn't until 9:00. She had an hour to go and all she wanted was to curl up at home with popcorn, ice cream, and Grey's Anatomy.

A crash sounded from the bullpen and Roma jumped in her seat.

"What the hell?"

The day shift was over so the bullpen should be empty. Even Kane and Blake, the ones who stayed the latest in the day, had left. There shouldn't be anyone in the building except maybe a janitor. Roma remembered the new janitor was a middle aged man with terrible hearing and social skills. If he was scrounging through the officer's desks, she would take photographic evidence and get him fired.

She took out her cell phone and held it out before her as she walked through the dim hallway lights to the dark bullpen. She frowned. Why didn't the janitor turn on the lights as he cleaned?

"Hello? Mr. Farwell, where did you go? You better not be leaving without doing my desk!" Roma reached out for the light switch and flipped it when her manicured nail touched it.

The ceiling lit up with electricity and as Roma's eyes adjusted to the illumination she rubbed her eyes with one arm. A thump came from behind her. She whirled, cell phone poised, but saw nothing. A burst of air hit her from behind and she shivered uncontrollably, turning slowly. The sight before her made her scream but the scream was stolen from her as the thing in front of her slashed her throat open, sending her vocal chords flying. Her finger pressed the camera button and the image clicked before the cell phone hit the floor under a heavy cabinet on the side of the room.

Roma choked on blood, hitting the floor. She felt the life fading from her but before she died she suffered the evil thing's subsequent mutilations. When Mr. Farwell reached the bullpen with his cleaning cart, he nearly vomited on sight as Roma's butchered body lay in ripped pieces near Monroe and Miller's desks.


	3. Chapter 3

**This story is a lot of fun to write with all the lore and mythology pertaining. I have done serious research for the story so any lore I mention has a lot of truth to it!**

.Three.

**Mt. Weather Virginia**

"So, we all settled in to the latest digs, Sammy?" Dean asked over a mouthful of tuna melt supreme.

"It's like you were raised by gorillas." Sam said with disgust as a piece of chewed up rye bread flew from his brother's mouth.

"This isn't news. Dean has little self-awareness, you wear too much plaid, and I still sleep with a stuffed animal. Can we move on now?" Clarke interjected, shoving another forkful of shrimp linguini into her mouth.

Sam bemusedly raised an eyebrow.

"Clarke when did you start enjoying seafood? I thought fish was the cuisine of the devil."

Clarke almost flushed at her brother's observation before shrugging her shoulders.

"My palate is open to new things. Is that a crime? Seriously, how's the local inn? Dirty and smelly or this side of dilapidated?"

Thankfully Sam took the change of topic easily and began describing the surprising furnishings of the inn. Clarke internally applauded herself because she'd shoot herself before admitting to her brothers that the seafood she'd always stuck her tongue at had only been taken as a suggestion by Bellamy Blake. And he'd been right. The little restaurant owned by a kind looking man named Jake Turner offered home-cooked meals more pleasant than expected and the shrimp linguini was heavenly.

"Well, a bed without any termite damage will be a nice change. How was the talk with the man of the town?" Dean asked, finishing his meal and pushing the plate to the side before moving his Pepsi closer.

"Mayor Jaha seems like a good guy."

"Elaborate?" Clarke made a hurrying motion.

"He isn't involved with whatever's going on. This town is cursed, that much we know, which is similar to the case in Atlanta, remember?"

"The town sheriff knew the town sat atop an Indian burial ground but he riled up the spirits to strike fear into the townspeople. Somehow he controlled the spirits so they never attacked him but kept his rule absolute. The South doesn't play games." Dean added and Clarke laughed.

"I doubt the North does either. If Jaha doesn't know what's going on, how does he explain the murders?" she asked.

"Naively." Sam said. "He thinks a gang formed, but that doesn't explain the break between kills. Bottom line is this Jaha believes his police chief will handle things because he is as confused as the townspeople."

"Chief Kane doesn't know much. I saw the case file open on his desk and I got him to open up a bit, telling him our dad was a cop and they collaborated on some case in Chicago." Dean shrugged. "He bought it but I gathered the chief is as lost as the mayor."

"Great, no evident leads. We're back at square one." Clarke mumbled.

"Not necessarily. I called Bobby and he dug up some local history."

"Coven of witches? Demon meeting place?" she offered.

"No and no. But there was a prominent tribe native to the area. All of Mt. Weather used to be dirt and forestry. This territory was claimed by a tribe of people known only as 'Grounders'. According to Bobby, they were lethal. They commanded the Northeast and the mighty Iroquois and Algonquian tribes of New York were under the Grounders' order. They basically set up a tributary system in this region of the country." Sam explained.

"So they were the Big Bad of the Native American tribes. What happened to them?" Dean inquired.

"The same thing that happened to most Indian tribes after Columbus' voyages. European conquest. There were thousands of Grounders but their numbers dwindled remarkably and months after the English, Dutch, and Spanish settlers arrived there were only a hundred remaining. The Northeast tribes disbanded after forced assimilation or extinction and European communities flourished."

"The Grounders were wiped out?"

"Not exactly, Dean. The hundred Grounder warriors that survived disease and battles sought out a shaman-supposedly the most powerful shaman in all the realms and the last of his line because the Europeans had killed all chiefs and shaman of the area to make the natives comply with their mandates. This shaman was the last connection to the gods and spirits of nature. The Grounders went to this man and begged him to open the channels to the gods so they could ask for their shaman told them he was sorry but the gods were not responding to mortals anymore. They had abandoned them. In their desperation the Grounders pleaded with the shaman to speak to anyone with the power to help them. The shaman was hesitant but he was tired of the 'White Men' killing his brothers and so he told them there was one god who could still be contacted but his aid came with a price."

"Let me guess… their souls?" Clarke interrupted and Sam nodded before continuing.

"All 100 souls. This god was known as Chibiabos, the God of the Underworld. He spoke through the shaman to the Grounders and promised them victory over the murderers who had stolen their lands and the lives of their loves ones. The 100 warriors gained the strength of the thousands of warriors who had already died and ravaged the lands of the region, specifically the current town of Mt. Weather. Most settlers ran away but even more were slaughtered. For two weeks in May the Grounders killed and killed. When they were done, they killed themselves. They had too much blood on their hands. Mortals are not meant to have so many deaths on their hands. That's what Reapers are for after all."

"But the 100 Grounders who sold their souls, what happened after they died?" Clarke asked.

"They had to have gone to hell. This Chibi-whatever is a keeper of the underworld. He presides over an entrance of hell and he has to report to Lucifer. If he pawned 100 souls he wanted them for himself." Dean assumed.

"From what Bobby and I deduced, he did drag them to the underworld but because they deprived him of collecting their bodies himself he used his hold on their souls to tie them to Earth. Every 10 years the 100 Grounder warriors ascend from hell to kill in the name of Chibiabos for precisely 2 weeks."

"Two weeks like the time it took for the Grounders to carry out their revenge on the European settlers of the area." Clarke said, understanding the story now.

"Yes. What I don't understand, though, is why a god of the underworld who once gave his servants the power to slaughter a whole population of people only asks for 14 deaths."

"It's one per day. Isn't that a representation of power?" Clarke questioned.

"Yeah, but that wouldn't be enough for Chibiabos. This guy's the epitome of blood-thirsty." Sam frowned in thought and Dean suddenly slammed his fist on the table, his lips twisting in excitement.

"I've got it!"

Several people looked over at his outburst and Clarke and Sam were left giving embarrassed smiles. Sam asked for the check and left some crumpled ones on the table as a tip before they exited the bistro.

"Care to share with the class, Dean?" Sam asked when they piled in to the Impala.

"Let me just enjoy this moment of superiority. I've figured out a mystery before the great Sam Winchester. Clarke doesn't even know, but I do!" he gave himself a proud pat on the back and Clarke punched him in the shoulder.

"Tell us!" she ordered and he glared back at her.

"That is the second time you've physically assaulted me today. I don't appreciate it."

Sam sighed in exasperation.

"Alright, alright! You two are like the Party Pooper Squad, you know that? Anyway, I was thinking about the Atlanta case and I realized they are exactly the same. If the god were the one calling the shots, he would send his 100 Grounders out to ice the whole town every decade. More souls and carnage for him. But, if he's not the one calling the shots and someone who stumbled across the same lore we did found a way to control the 100, wouldn't they use these two weeks as the ideal personal vendetta spree?"

Sam and Clarke were following Dean's train of thought diligently. It made sense.

"Who could manipulate a keeper of the underworld? He may not be a true God, since he works for the devil, but a keeper is five times as dangerous as a demon." Clarke said.

"Anyone with the right amulet." Sam said pensively. "Amulets are the only magical items that can be tethered to spirits or supernatural creatures. We've seen a necklace that allowed a woman to control a reaper. There must be some amulet in town used to control Chibiabos."

"We need to destroy it then." Dean stated but Clarke shook her head.

"That wouldn't guarantee the town safety. What if destroying the amulet allows Chibiabos to destroy the whole town again?"

"Clarke's right. We don't know what we're messing with yet."

"So what now, Sam? We keep our thumbs up our asses and let 14 people die every decade because it's the lesser of two evils?"

"No, of course not. I'll call Bobby. Tell him to hit the books on anything relating to Chibiabos. We are still here to save these people. Now that we know a human is harnessing this power to take out his enemies, we have to profile the deceased. Figure out what they have in common and find the killer. Hopefully, by the time we find the culprit, we'll know what to do with the amulet."

"Or else the whole town is screwed." Dean growled.

He turned the key in the ignition, intending to drive towards their inn but with the start of the car, the radio turned on, blasting the channel Sam had designed to tap into local police radios.

"_We got another one, Chief… Roma Matthews… Chief, it's bad. There's nothing left of her. I mean, Jesus, we only know it's her cause her purse and clothes are splattered with blood and gunk, but it's a mess down here." _one of the cops was speaking.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

"We were too late today. Missed the deadline." Dean said.

"There wasn't anything we could do, Dean. Even if we had figured out the story earlier, we have no idea what we're up against or what weapons would have worked. I doubt rock salt would do much damage to a spirit working for the underworld." Sam pointed out but all three Winchesters felt the failure of the job as a blow to the chest.

"We have to go back to the police department. Inspect the area." Clarke decided.

"Agreed, but we're civilians, newcomers to this town. We'd be beyond suspicious showing up to the scene of a murder minutes after the cops find it."

"Lucky for us, I planned for this." Dean spoke smugly, turning the car in the direction of the station.

"What does that mean?"

"You might have known if you weren't so busy flirting with Deputy Dick back there."

Clarke muttered a few choice curse words and Sam glanced back at her with his eyebrows raised.

"What?"

"Forget it." Clarke grimaced and Dean just shrugged.

"I'll tell you later. Anyway, as I was leaving the chief's office, I figured I might need another look around his office and I'd need a good alibi so I dropped my wallet. It's behind the chair on the right side of Kane's desk."

"Wow. That was smart, Dean."

"Your disbelief wounds me, Sammy."

* * *

Bellamy had been the second one back at the station when the call came in. The first had been Police Chief Kane, of course, but the shock in Miller's voice had forced Bellamy out of his bed and into the closest pair of jeans and long sleeved sweater before hopping into his old Honda Civic and speeding to the station.

The night officers were there, standing in a hushed semi-circle off to one side. There were only three officers assigned to the night shift and though Bellamy got along them okay, he knew they were assigned to the shift for specific reasons. Officer Damien Miller was on probation for involvement in a large-scale bar fight. Officer Monroe Elkins spent the day raising her newborn child on her own and Officer Atom Lawrence couldn't handle the movement of the day shift as he was still in remission after grappling with stage 2 skin cancer.

Chief Kane was questioning the night janitor heatedly but most likely pointlessly. The man seemed severely shaken up and his eyes kept darting to the blood bath cordoned off with yellow tape.

"What happened?" Bellamy approached Miller but Monroe answered for him.

"Another murder. No thanks to you."

Bellamy was taken about by the unrestricted anger and vehemence in her voice. Atom shot her a wary glance and looked back at Bellamy with chagrin.

"We're off kilter, Deputy Blake. Monroe didn't mean any harm."

Monroe grumbled something in Atom's direction before turning back to Bellamy.

"Yeah, sorry."

The apology was lifeless and Bellamy took it for what it was: a half-assed attempt at appeasing him because of his title. Jasper and Octavia had been telling him for months he was letting his new position go to his head and he hadn't really believed it, but seeing fellow officers blaming him for the town murders was another thing.

"You accusing me of being a killer, Officer Elkins?"

Atom opened his mouth to speak but Bellamy raised a hand.

"I'd appreciate some honesty. Elkins?" he prompted.

This time Monroe didn't hold back.

"We're all working our asses off to find this killer but bodies keep piling up and it seems like you and Kane only succeed in gallivanting around town on parade floats or taking pictures for the local paper. Do you have any clue to who's doing this? Do you even care?"

Chief Kane called his name and Bellamy cleared his throat before walking away from Monroe's unrelenting stare.

"The janitor didn't see the killer. He didn't hear any sounds of a scuffle. Roma had no chance to fight back. I'm thinking a man of considerable size and stature."

"I agree, sir, but who would commit a murder in the heart of the police department? It's reckless."

"It's arrogant. The bastard's playing mind games. Killed right under my nose."

"Sir, you couldn't have known-

"Either way, there's not much left here." Kane interrupted. "I'm heading home. Get this cleaned up and make sure the night shift knows what the hell they're doing."

Then he was gone and Bellamy was left staring down at a puddle of guts and blood with a shaking janitor to one side and a trio of officers probably whispering behind his back.

Oh and the sudden appearance of the Griffin family.

"Whoa, you can't just walk in here." Miller stood between the three Griffins and the rest of the room but his height was nothing for Sam and Dean just shoved him aside.

"Already did." He strolled past.

"Back off, Blondie." Monroe's hand moved to her gun and once again it was to Clarke to diffuse the situation.

"That's usually my nickname, officer." She flashed her sweetest smile. "My brother dropped his wallet around here earlier. We were just retrieving it. Oh my God, what happened?"

She raised her hands to cover her mouth at the sight of the blood, throwing in a stunned gasp which immediately drew Miller to her.

"It's not a sight for delicate eyes, miss." He said, touching her arm reassuringly.

Clarke repressed a snort. She had seen so much worse, like the wendigo attack at her friend Annabeth's tenth birthday party. _That _was gruesome.

Clarke knew they had to scour the crime scene but it wouldn't be easy surrounded by cops and the janitor who must have stumbled upon the remains of the body. The old man was still trembling. Clarke gave Dean a subtle wink before making a show of stumbling in her heeled boots.

"Oh crap, I'm sorry. I'm feeling a bit faint."

She closed her eyes and let her body fall forward. As she anticipated arms closed around her small frame.

"Thank you. I-I need to get away from this. Get some air, please."

When she opened her eyes, she almost gasped. For real this time. She'd assumed the officer sporting a black beanie would rush to her side, but somehow Bellamy standing the furthest away had caught her instead. Logically, she realized this was better than she'd planned because Bellamy was more observant and probably smarter than the other cops and her brothers could get rid of the other cops more easily with Bellamy out of the way. Still, the handsome man's proximity was doing things to her usually steady pulse and her heart must have been beating loud enough to hear.

"I can take you out the back entrance for a few minutes."

"Thank you, Deputy." She gave a gracious smile and he led her out, keeping an arm around her waist.

Though Dean wanted to run after his little sister, he knew she could take care of herself (she had knives and stakes hidden in jacket pockets and in her boots or the particularly sharp blade strapped to her leg) and besides he had a window of opportunity now. The deputy had left the room and two of the other officers were taking the janitor in each arm. Apparently they were going to give him a ride home in the cop car. That left one. The particularly paranoid female officer.

Dean flashed his lady-killer smile.

"You're too beautiful to be a cop, sweetheart. What's your story?"

* * *

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean convinced the officer to accompany him to the chief's office to search for his cell phone. He would bet money his brother was doing more than that, but Sam didn't linger on that thought. He crouched beside the police tape and examined what was left of Roma Matthews.

It did align with the profile they'd created of the vindictive Grounder spirits working for Chibiabos. Other supernatural creatures wouldn't bother with so much gore. If they wanted a meal, they only left small bones or hair behind. If they wanted a vessel, they wouldn't have left the body behind. Even a shape shifter didn't leave such a mess behind when taking on a new form. Whoever held the amulet was certainly getting their revenge on the Mt. Weather townspeople.

Sam did a quick scan for sulfur that yielded nothing but his hand barely grazed the EMF scanner when it began screeching at the residual presence of the spirits in the room. He instantly shut it off and put it back in his pocket. There was nothing else to be gained from the room. Their next step was going over all the dead to find the connection to the wielder of the amulet. He was about to stand when a blink of light flashed from his peripheral vision.

Sam crawled away from the cordoned area and on his knees bent his head lower to the floor. The source of the light was an iPhone in a bright yellow case that had slid under the cabinet. It must have been the victim's phone. He hadn't seen it in her purse and the cops hadn't put everything into sealed bags for evidence yet. He hurried forward, slipping one lean arm under the cabinet before fishing the phone out and putting it in his pocket.

When Monroe and Dean emerged from the office, her face red and her hair coming out of its tight braid (not to mention the noticeable hickey on her neck) Sam was leaning against a desk on one side of the room with all the nonchalance in the world.

"Score." Dean smirked and when Monroe gave him a glower, he held up his wallet. "See, I found it, Sammy."

Sam wondered from time to time how he and Dean carried the same DNA.

* * *

Clarke gauged that three minutes or so had passed so she shifted her weight so she wasn't leaning on Bellamy's strong frame anymore.

"I'm good. The nausea passed. I've never seen so much blood before, you know?"

Bellamy's arm had moved away from her waist and hung limp at his side again. Clarke briefly wished he'd put it back and then add the other and pull her hard into his chest and then-

"It's fine. My job is to serve the townspeople. That sort of includes you now, doesn't it, Princess?"

"That nickname's here to stay isn't it?"

"Count on it." He said cheekily and she laughed.

"I'm sure my brother found his wallet by now. I don't want to keep you. You must be tired."

"I was sleeping when the call came in, but I'm used to these type of nights. There's supposed to be a day shift and an overnight shift for a reason, but as deputy I'm always here."

"You sound bitter."

"You're the only one to pick up on it."

"Hmm."

"Like I said before, everyone sees what's outside but they don't bother to look past it. One of the officers inside blames me for these murders. Said I'm centered on my promotion and sucking up to Chief Kane. On the other side, the chief's a dick that wears excessive amounts of hair gel and I hate working for him."

Clarke broke into laughter and Bellamy followed with his own chuckles.

"This isn't your fault, Bellamy." She said after they'd quieted.

"Yeah, then whose is it?"

In the moonlight her blue eyes came alive, the dark of her pupils bringing out the glimmering azure of her irises. The deep consideration in her eyes startled him. Clarke had moments of strange passion (all happening in the storm of her eyes) where thoughts and emotions played a beautiful game. When she spoke again, her voice was as easy as usual and whatever Bellamy had seen in her eyes was gone.

"Chief Dick, maybe."

He laughed again and gestured for the door. She let him open it for her as they walked back to the main room.

"I think it's best if we take the second corridor. It'll leave you at the front door and your brothers can meet you there. That way you don't have to see… you know."

She nodded.

"Thanks, Deputy."

"No problem, Princess. I think if we keep meeting like this, I might have to ask you out."

Clarke grinned.

"Then I might have to make sure we keep meeting like this."

They were at the front entrance sooner than he would have wanted and Sam and Dean were already waiting for her there (to Bellamy's dismay). Both had their arms crossed expectantly and Clarke shot them a warning glare.

"Thanks again, Deputy Blake." Clarke said as she pushed her brothers out the door.

Bellamy smiled after the whirlwind of blonde hair and magical eyes. There was something about Clarke Griffin… it might just be the death of him.

He laughed at that before returning to the main floor where Roma's remains still lay. He'd have to bag everything himself and write up the report as well. _Shit._


End file.
